A Little Push
by QuietLittleVoices
Summary: There's something not quite right about the guy hitting on you at the bar.


**A/N: **I own nothing. I wrote this in like three hours. This is an idea I got in the middle of the night last night. Please read and review xx

* * *

There's something not quite right about the guy hitting on you at the bar.

He wasn't giving off 'serial killer' vibes or anything, but you could still tell that something was _off _with him. It confuses you because, for all intents and purposes, he should have been giving off 'I want in your bed' vibes. But he wasn't. His body language all pointed towards wanting to get in your pants – open posture, angled towards you, flirtatious smile – but he just wasn't giving off the right signals.

"Okay," you say finally, "neither of us are really into this whole 'flirting' thing we've got going on. And it's too late now for either of us to pick someone else up. So why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"

Dean – or at least you think his name is 'Dean'; it was something normal like that – sighs and turns to face the bar, folding in on himself over his beer. "It's... complicated."

You scoot your bar stool in tighter to the bar and copy his position, turning your head to look at him sideways. "It always is. Tell me about it; what's their name?" you ask, because you know without a doubt that this is about _someone_.

"Cas," he answers easily.

"Why's it complicated?"

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "My best friend. Only person I trust aside from my brother. I don't want to ruin it."

You give him a searching look. "That's not what's 'complicated' about it, is it?"

"No. No it's not."

"Tell me, then. I got nothin' else to do."

"Cas has a... crazy, overbearing family," he says slowly. "Known 'im for four years, and they've always been... well, crazy and overbearing. A couple months ago, he... went away to help them with something. Then a little over a month ago, he showed up and need _my_ help with the thing. So I tried, and then he disappeared again, for about a week. He showed up where my brother and I are staying, in really bad shape, and for the last month he's been living with us and we've been helping him... cope."

After a moment, it became clear that he wasn't going to continue. "And?" you prompt. "I don't see what's so complicated about that."

He sighed and ran a hand over his head. "That's the thing – it isn't complicated. I'm just an 'emotionally regressed idiot'." It sounded distinctly like he was directly quoting someone there.

"What I'm getting here is that he has family issues, he comes to you when he needs help, and you're in love with him but scared of it. Am I right?"

For a second, it looks like he's going to protest, but then he deflates a little, takes a sip of his beer, and says, "Yeah, pretty much."

You consider it all for a moment. "Tell him. From what you're saying, he needs support right now."

"I can't tell him," he says, and it seems from the tension in his shoulders that it was supposed to be aggressive, but it sounds mostly tired. "He doesn't feel the same."

A gut instinct in you doubts that, but you don't know the guy – don't know either of them, really, but that's beside the point – so you can't really say. "Tell me about him," you suggest.

"Shorter than me," he says, making a vague hand motion to signify 'shorter', "but not too much. Can still see eye-to-eye, and _God_ he has these fucking blue eyes..." He shakes his head slightly. "He stares a lot, too. Doesn't really understand 'boundaries' like personal space and when to look away. And he does this little head-tilt thing when he's confused – which is a lot – and it's... I don't wanna say 'cute' 'cause he's a grown man but it's cute."

"Does he 'not understand boundaries' with everyone?" you ask, because your goal here is to prove to this guy that he's not the only one working with unresolved feelings.

He considers your question for a moment. "He seems to get it most of the time. Like, stand far enough away that they can't smell you. Still stands really close to me, though I think we're just both really used to it by now." Dean takes another sip from his drink. "He did some bad things to my brother and me, and he's trying to set things right even though we forgave him. About two weeks ago, I woke up at three AM because it sounded like someone had broken into our house, and found him trying to make apple pie in the kitchen. There was shit _everywhere_. He doesn't know how to bake, but he knows apple pie's my favourite, so he was making it to try and get me to forgive him."

You nod slowly. "I still think you should tell him."

Dean starts to say something else but someone walks up behind him and taps him on the shoulder. The newcomer is a tall, blue-eyed man who is looking at Dean like he hangs the moon, but there's a hint of a deep sadness behind his eyes.

"Sam told me to come and look for you," he says, and you've just met him but you can tell he's lying through his teeth.

And you know that Dean can tell, too, because he nods slowly and says, "Yeah. Okay. Why does he need me?"

The man who you're assuming is Cas – because who else could it be, really – glances over at you before his eyes snap back to Dean. "He... found something of interest."

"I'm sure he did," Dean replies. There's a clear tone of disbelief in his voice, but it's also clear that he's gonna go along with whatever this man says.

Cas' eyes dart to you one last time. "I'll... go wait in the car for you, then."

"You do that." And then Cas is turning and walking away through the fairly empty bar.

"What the fuck," you say. It's not a question, or even a statement really, just an expression. "How can you not tell he's in love with you? I swear to God, if you don't go over there and kiss him _right now_..." you let the sentence trail off and try to give the big, broad-shouldered guy next to you a menacing look.

It almost makes him laugh, but he's a bit too somber for that. "He was here for thirty seconds, how would you know?"

"It's in his eyes. Now _go_."

You watch as he stands up slowly, not entirely sure what he's doing. He takes a deep breathe and a sip of his beer before striding across the bar with a facade of confidence. Lucky for your voyeuristic tendencies, Cas is still in the bar and in your line of sight, and so you get to watch as Dean stops right behind him and taps him on the shoulder. When he turns, head tilted slightly with confusion written all over his face, Dean grabs his face and kisses him. For a moment, they both look surprised (and so does everyone around them) but then at the same time they both melt into it. It takes them a few minutes to come back to themselves and stop for air. They stand like that for a moment and then break apart, each with an arm still around the other.

Dean turns his head and his eyes find yours. You nod at each other, he turns away, and you can't help but grin as the bar door swings shut because _you were right._


End file.
